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Accompanied by her sisters as well as her mother and a group of close friends, Dorothy headed across the road to the Aviva stadium during the final week of June to watch Neil Diamond and Mary Byrne performing in concert. They enjoyed it as much as they had the Take That concert, although were considerably more restrained when it came to alcohol.
Dorothy had not forgotten the misery of her Father’s Day hangover, and even Helen admitted she had learned a hard lesson, and was perhaps getting a little long in the tooth to be staying up drinking all night like a twenty year-old. As a consequence of their shared determination to remain reasonably sober, both ladies were mindful of their alcoholic intake, and even managed to get to bed at a reasonable hour.
Even though Pat Lyle was in her sixties and had not hit the hay until close to midnight, she was nevertheless the first one up the next morning, pottering around. Shortly before eight, Dorothy heard a tap on her bedroom door and her mother appeared bearing a cup of coffee.
Through bleary eyes, Dorothy saw Pat was wearing her favourite skirt and blouse, and had applied some cosmetics. Since she rarely wore blusher and more often than not had the air of a woman who was likely to whip out her knitting at any moment, this confused her daughter somewhat.
The mystery was soon solved when Pat announced it was her mission to turf the fortieth richest woman in the land out of bed. She reminded Dorothy of her promise to take her to a holistic and craft fair in Wexford in the sunny southeast. Dorothy groaned when she remembered the promise, but nonetheless sat up and drank her coffee. Then she flung herself into the shower before she inadvertently rolled over and went back to sleep. She knew better than to let her mother down, and had only indulged in two drinks the previous evening, meaning there was no excuse to linger in bed.
One of the larger hotels in Wexford was hosting the fair. According to the leaflet Pat had come by, it would consist of the usual array of exhibitions and stalls generally found at these types of events, as well as an artisan and food section.
Orla had not been home since Saturday afternoon, and felt obliged to return to Peter and the children. Gordon had plans to take Wendy, Eoin, and Kathy to visit their paternal grandmother; hence a delighted Gemma had no qualms about accompanying her mother and sister. As they would virtually be passing Viv’s front door, they debated whether or not to call and invite her and Yvonne to join them.
‘Send her a text and tell her where we’re going, Dottie,’ Pat ordered. ‘It will do her good to get out of the house if she feels like taking a break from the packing.’
‘Why am I texting instead of calling?’ Dorothy enquired curiously, as she picked up her phone.
‘You don’t want to make her feel pressurised,’ Pat replied rather mysteriously. ‘Divorce can do strange things to a person. Besides, not everybody likes holistic stuff. Even when she was a girl, Viv was never a great one for anything of a New Age nature.’
Dorothy chuckled to herself as she typed the text. Her mother was quite right. Viv had never been a fan of anything with a whiff of the supernatural about it. She was the sort of person who was fully committed to western medicine, and thought anybody who tried acupuncture or any sort of alternative therapy was deranged. In this respect, she had gotten on quite well with Victor on the few occasions the two had been thrown together. Although, after Dorothy dumped him, Viv admitted she was relieved.
‘He was so infantile and ignorant, Dottie. There were a couple of times when I seriously wondered if he was slipping you roofies to control you.’
Dorothy made her mother and sister laugh when she recounted this little anecdote on the way down to the garage. They happily piled into the Focus and headed south. Even after they cleared the city and made it safely onto the motorway, it took more than two hours to reach Wexford. This was partly because Pat kept insisting Dorothy pull the car over so she could admire the views. Her daughter eventually lost patience and refused to stop again.
‘You’ve seen plenty of views before, Ma,’ she snapped. ‘You live in Rathmichael for feck sake, not the Liberties.’
As the Liberties was one of the oldest parts of Dublin and a built-up area often referred to as the inner-city, where views of lambs frolicking in the fields were in short supply, Dorothy felt she had successfully made her point. She distinctly heard Gemma sniggering in the back of the car. After that, they made better progress.
There was plenty of parking at the rear of the hotel and they were soon standing in line to pay the five-euro cover charge. The fair was a large one, and the three women happily wandered around and investigated the various stalls. Pat sat in a queue for almost an hour and waited to have a tarot card reading, although her daughters did not bother. They were far more interested in checking out the multitude of goods on display, and actually buying some for a change.
The last time they had been at a similar fair, they had each purchased three small items for themselves. Even Gemma with her radiologist’s salary, would not have dreamt of spending more than a few euro on herself. Not when she had three young children, a home to run, and a substantial mortgage. But not today. Dorothy was not entirely certain what her sister’s intentions were with regard to treating herself, although she was positive about her own. She intended to buy anything that caught her eye, and with this in mind had withdrawn plenty of cash.
It did not take her long to put a hole in the readies, because at the crystal stand she fell for a magnificent piece of amethyst. It was aptly named a cathedral due to its wide base that rose to a point. It had a deep purple hue, and she found herself staring into its depths, lost in thought. The obliging couple who ran the stall were quick to note her admiration, and even quicker to point out the agate banding around the outer edges of the cathedral. They happily informed her this was part of the outer shell of the geode in which the crystals grew over hundreds of thousands of years.
Dorothy was not sure about the whole agate and geode thing, and resolved to look it up in one of her crystal books later. She really should know more about these things, and not just buy stuff because she was drawn to it. The cathedral was about twenty inches high, and would potentially require its own table for display purposes. She took a picture with her phone and sent it to Jamie. Seconds later the handset beeped with a reply. OMG! That would look super-cool on the piano!
The decision was made. She asked the stallholders to hang a sold sign on it, and hold it for her until she was ready to leave. Then she happily handed over the four hundred euro asking price. Humming to herself, she wandered off, wondering what her family was up to.
‘I bought a giant crystal,’ Dorothy reported to her mother once she had tracked her down. ‘Don’t let me forget to collect it later. How did the card reading go?’
Pat looked rattled. ‘There was something she wouldn’t tell me. I knew by her.’
‘Well...even if there was something, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, Ma. Maybe just an unplanned pregnancy. I’m sure we can afford another baby or two,’ Dorothy hastened to reassure her mother.
‘No, it wasn’t anything like that,’ Pat frowned. ‘She already told me there will be more babies in the future. Why don’t you go and have your cards read, pet?’
Her curiosity piqued, Dorothy wandered over to the tarot card readers section. There were ten of them in total, spaced far enough apart to ensure a reasonable degree of privacy. They all had cards in front of them, in many cases more than one deck. Some had ribbons of different shades hanging from the sides of the tables, and a couple had crystal balls. It was an impressive sight.
She had not had her cards read for many years and was feeling reckless. Unfortunately, each reader had a queue of at least three hopeful looking individuals awaiting their services, which indicated a minimum wait of one hour.
Dorothy took a good look at the readers and chose the one that drew her the most. It was a man adorned in a Nelson Mandela style purple shirt. She approached the young girl who was first in line. The girl looked wired as if she had something on her mind. She did not look affluent, and each reading cost fifty euro. Dorothy hunkered down next to her.
‘Hello,’ she whispered, ‘my name is Dorothy and I’m in a bit of a rush today. Could I interest you in a trade? Give me your place as if you were holding it for me, and I’ll give you one hundred euro.’
She had the cash ready in her hand. When the girl looked down, she could see that Dorothy was serious. Her eyes went wide and seconds later the deal was sealed. The young woman joined the back of the queue, and Dorothy took her place on the first seat. Within minutes, Noel Merrick, the reader, called her over.
According to Noel’s literature, he was a mystic and a medium, although his speciality was the tarot, which he often used in conjunction with angel cards. Dorothy chose a standard reading often referred to as the ‘past, present and future’.
Noel kindly informed her that, after he had finished, she would be able to ask him something specific, which he would do his best to answer. At his request, Dorothy cut the deck and the mystic began to place the cards face-up on the table, starting with her past.
‘Twins,’ he announced with dramatic flair, ‘are extremely important in your life.’
‘My children.’ She did not mind confirming that detail. She was not there to catch him out. She just felt like doing something different. Noel began to throw down more cards, and it was not long before her disastrous love life was laid out on the table in front of her.
‘Interesting,’ Noel frowned at the cards. ‘Who is the man who is all talk and no substance?’
‘That would be Victor, my ex,’ Dorothy smiled benignly. ‘He used to tell me he loved me at least three times a day, but that’s as far as it went. It was nothing but talk.’
‘Indeed,’ said Noel, and raised his eyes to hers. ‘There are two men here whom you cared for deeply, yet neither of them loved you in return. At least not in the way a person deserves to be loved. They seem to be extreme examples of men only capable of self-adulation.’
Dorothy was unsure of how to react to this statement. She had often wondered if she had imagined the unloving aspects of Declan and Victor’s personalities. It was odd to hear her own opinion baldly stated by a man adorned in a purple African shirt. Fortunately, before she wasted too much time dwelling on the inadequacies of the men from her past, Noel moved on to her present.
‘I see great wealth,’ he pronounced, ‘great abundance.’
‘That’s me all right,’ she replied cheerfully. ‘God bless the lottery.’
Noel stared from under his bushy eyebrows, then placed another card face-up.
‘Travel,’ he proclaimed, ‘lots of travel.’
Since she had just admitted to being a lottery winner, Dorothy did not feel this declaration was exactly earthshattering, and was inclined to switch off and let him ramble on. After a minute, he caught her attention once again by saying: ‘There are major changes taking place in your life. Everything is very fluid right now. Nevertheless, some resent you for what you have. Some would take it away from you if they could. With great wealth comes great responsibility.’
Dorothy sighed quietly and wished he would stop talking like a character from a black and white movie. Nobody had tried to take anything away from her and were unlikely to start now, merely because of the tarot. She began to wish she had not sat down. Her cynical expression did not escape Noel’s attention. He threw down another card.
‘You are a woman of peace, and do you know what peace attracts?’ he enquired with a raised eyebrow.
‘What does peace attract, Noel?’ she asked in return, and raised her own eyebrow in a somewhat childish attempt to parody him.
‘It attracts war,’ the mystic replied woodenly. ‘Peace always attracts war, ergo you attract warmongers. They catch a glimpse of a peaceful woman like you, and straightaway they formulate a plan to invade your shores and claim you for themselves.’
A stunned Dorothy stared down at the cards. She acknowledged that Noel had just described every relationship she had ever had. Even the few boys she had dated before she met Declan had been of the crazy variety. In fact, she was certain both youths had spent time behind bars at some point during their young lives.
Noel saw he had rattled her and his thin lips twitched. ‘And so to the future,’ said a smug looking mystic, as he rearranged the tools of his trade. Once again, he began to place the cards face-up on the table, while his eyes lost focus as if he was channelling information from another source.
‘Great love!’ he unexpectedly announced, once again with dramatic flourish.
Dorothy fought the urge to stand up and walk away. Great love, her Irish ass. Hadn’t he just said she attracted warmongers? With her track record, she would be lucky to find herself a halfway decent boyfriend, yet here was Noel Merrick predicting great love for her. She hadn’t even been on a date for years. She could not help making a sound of disgust in the back of her throat.
‘Indeed,’ he intoned dramatically. ‘A powerful love which has been blessed by the universe. The reunion of one soul, split asunder many aeons ago. A soul that has waited many lifetimes to find its other half. Love and marriage, Dorothy. Love and marriage.’
She gawked at him in a cocktail of dismay and bafflement at this turn of events. She could hardly credit he was predicting marriage on top of everything else. And in such a dramatic way as well! She believed in soul mates as much as the next person, in fact more than most, but this was getting creepy. Noel had paused for a moment to watch her face, but now turned his attention to the cards once more. He frowned.
‘What is it?’ Dorothy asked urgently. ‘Please tell me you don’t see more children in there. I’m forty years of age, for feck sake. Powerful love or no powerful love.’
‘Eh...from now on, you must be watchful.’ Noel was clearly choosing his words carefully. ‘You must be on your guard against those who seek to harm you in...eh...in business dealings.’
‘Business dealings?’ she looked blank.
‘Correct. Business dealings.’
‘I know you’re not supposed to tell people bad news.’ She fixed her eyes upon him firmly. ‘I understand if you see something scary, you’re not supposed to say. It’s in the card readers’ handbook or something like that. But if you see something serious, it’s all right to tell me. I’m not a child.’
Noel sighed, and Dorothy saw he was wishing she had never approached his table. ‘There is danger and death ahead of you,’ he told her sadly, then hung his head.
‘No chance of a boring life then,’ she tried to sound chipper. ‘Keep going please.’
He lifted his head and threw down two more cards. ‘More danger, more death, tears, horror, anguish, heartbreak, extreme violence, and the worst kind of betrayal,’ he muttered.
‘Lord a mercy, is there any good news at all?’ She was stunned by his words. ‘Apart from the new hubby, of course, and all the great love coming my way?’
‘Perhaps we should ask the angels,’ Noel replied calmly, and picked up his angel cards. He had lost some of his colour, but nonetheless shuffled the deck in a professional manner, then fanned the cards on the table in front of him and asked her to choose three. In some trepidation Dorothy slowly extended her arm and paused with her hand hovering over the spread. A little help here please!
She slowly moved her hand until she felt the first tingle, then gently touched the card below with the tip of her finger and pulled it towards her. She repeated this process twice more, each time waiting for the appropriate message from the other side before touching the card.
She sensed Noel’s green eyes boring a hole in her face as she made her selection, although he refrained from comment. He waited in silence until the choice was made then took up the cards and placed them face-up on top of the tarot spread. Once again, his eyes went out of focus as if he was listening to a distant message. Then he spoke in a singsong voice.
‘The Archangel Chamuel will soothe your troubled heart. The Archangel Haniel will grant you the strength and patience to bear what must be endured, even when it becomes unendurable.’ He paused and tapped the third card. ‘Most importantly, the Archangel Michael will watch over and protect you. He will send others to watch over and protect you also. You must watch for them, Dorothy. Your protectors will be sent to you by Michael and by Jesus himself. Do not be put off by their appearance, for at first glance they may be frightening or unusual. Do not be afraid.’
Noel’s eyes came back into focus and he stared hard at her. ‘You have gifts at your disposal, Dorothy,’ he sounded almost stern. ‘You must not deny them. You must embrace them, and not be afraid of your own power. Not everyone has been blessed with the clairs, and those of us who have them should not run from them. If you get out of your own way, they will be an aide to you during the dark days ahead.’
He stopped talking and she stared at him in shock while massaging her heart chakra. Noel pointed a stubby finger at her chest. ‘Ask yourself why your chest aches, Dorothy,’ he spoke more gently this time. ‘Listen to your body. Listen to your inner voice. Listen to your spirit guides. Get out of your own way and the answers will come to you.’
To her horror, she felt her eyes filling with tears. Seeing this, Noel took pity on her. ‘You may ask me one question,’ he said gently, and patted her hand as he did so.
‘What should I look out for? Will there be a sign?’ she managed to blurt out, while dashing away a tear.
His eyes looked into the distance. ‘Do you know somebody called Tin?’ he asked. ‘Not Tim, but Tin?’
‘I don’t know anybody by that name. It’s unusual and I’m sure I’d remember it.’
She rubbed her chest harder as the Space Ache hopped, hummed and vibrated all at the same time. As the mystic appeared to know all about it anyway, it was futile to attempt to hide it.
Noel shook his head as if to clear it. ‘If you come across somebody called the Tinman, you would be wise to keep him close because you are going to have need of him. The Tinman will be the sign you seek.’
